


These Winding Roads

by bookworm213



Series: The Winding Road Home [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes-centric, Bucky Feels, Gen, Homeless Bucky, Homelessness, Rape, Self-Harm, bucky trying to find his way back to Steve, depictions of violence/rape/sexual assault/self-harm, don't read if you are easily triggered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2018-02-15 05:25:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2217390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm213/pseuds/bookworm213
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follows Bucky from leaving Steve at the River to finding his way back to Steve again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Winding Roads

**Author's Note:**

> I must say, this is a lot darker than anything I usually write, but I wanted to step out of my comfort zone. PLEASE read the tags and don't read if you are sensitive or easily triggered. There will probably be a sequel coming soon as well.
> 
> All always, comments are loved and always responded to! :)

The Captain lays still, blood soaking his uniform, quiet except for the faint but steady intake of breath. 

The soldier should have killed him.

In the distance, sirens wail. The air is tinted with the smell of sulfur and smoke. There would be soldiers coming, to look for the Captain, to look for him. 

The soldier takes one last look at the Captain, cradles his broken arm to his chest and walks away, one foot in front of the other. There were protocols for failure: the chair, the wipe, everything dark and cold. He knows there’s a safe house he should report to, to be briefed and wiped. But somehow he knows, a voice in his head whispering to him, that he is free. That there will be no more wipes, no more orders, just him.

The thought unnerves him. 

He reaches the edge of the woods, sets his arm against a tree. His arm can’t be allowed to remain dislocated for long. It is a hindrance. He grits his teeth and pushes it back into place. There is a loud crack and a repressed scream from his throat. 

Once that is done, he peers out into the city. Police are at their loudspeakers, telling civilians to stay in their homes and away from the crash site. Helicopters are flying overhead. One thing becomes clear: he will need civilian clothing if he is to remain undetected. 

A homeless man has hade the mistake of wandering too close to where the soldier is hiding. He is swaying on his feet, clearly drunk. Within seconds the soldier snaps his neck and drags him into the woods, stripping him. The man is wearing a thick jacket and plaid shirt with jeans. The soldier pulls of his own uniform. It’s hard: pieces of skin stick to it as he peels in off. He dresses in the man’s clothes, pulling the hat low over his eyes, and makes his way into the city.

````````````````````````````

For days, he wanders. There is no mission, no handlers, and no objective. He walks until his limbs become tired, his eyes heavy. He takes shelter in an alley and collapses from exhaustion. He thinks it’s called sleep, but he can’t be sure. 

On the third day he wakes to find that his stomach is churning with a gnawing need, shifting and making strange noises. He stands, his hands clutching his stomach, and finds that his legs are rubbery. For the first time fear, true fear, enters the soldier’s mind, fear that he doesn’t know what his body needs; fear that he will die without his handlers. 

It’s only later when he leaves the alley and he sees the man walking past him, taking a bite out of the burger that emanates a smell that makes the soldier’s belly growl and twist, does he realize what he needs. He follows the man for a few blocks, knocks him unconscious and drags him into the alley. Instinctively he sinks his teeth into the food, eyes widening at the array of flavors he doesn’t remember experiencing before. The man also had a container of clear liquid on him, and the soldier finds it soothes the burning in his throat. 

Keeping both those things in mind, his strength renewed, he continues down the street. He’s learning to survive, without his handlers.

It’s a start. 

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

He finds the museum by accident, following a group of school kids. It was at least something to occupy his time. When he sees the sign for the Captain America exhibit, he can’t stop his feet from carrying him inside. 

The Captain had given him a name, one that had broken through his programming, made him start to remember things. Things from a life he wasn’t sure had existed.

Bucky Barnes was Steve Rogers’s friend since childhood. He’d been part of the 107th division, which had been captured in Italy, where Barnes had been experimented on by Arnim Zola, a Swedish scientist working for HYDRA. After being rescued by Steve, now with the super soldier serum, Bucky and the 107th accompanied the new Captain America to take down HYDRA. Bucky is the only Howling Commando to give his life in service for his country . . ..

Bucky Barnes . . .

Bucky Barnes . . .

He stares at the man’s face, his face. The Captain had been right. The soldier stands rooted to the spot, ignoring the people passing. He looks at the display again. He and Rogers grew up in Brooklyn . . .

Brooklyn . . .

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

He decides to go to Brooklyn.

He tells himself it’s practical that he keep on the move, to avoid detection, people still searching for him. But in reality, he wants to know more. 

He picks up a fallen newspaper and read that the Captain is out of the hospital and is in New York, staying at a place called Avengers Tower. He wants to find the Captain, find where he came from. 

So he starts walking. He takes nothing with him but the clothes on his back. He figures it will takes at the most a week or two for him to reach New York. He doesn’t think about what might happen to him on the way. All he concentrates on is his new objective, his new mission.

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

He’s been walking a full day by the side of the road. His legs are beginning to tremble. His stomach growls, his throat is dry. He isn’t used to feeling weak. 

He hears it before he sees it. A large truck pulls up beside him, window rolling down. A portly man sits in the drivers seat, eyeing the soldier with a look he does not find appealing. 

“Need a ride.”

The soldier considers for a moment, and then nods. It isn’t as though he has many options. He climbs into the passengers seat.

“Where you headed?”

“New York.” The soldier responds. It’s the first time he’s spoken in weeks. 

The man chuckles. “Thirsty?” He hands him of bottle of water, which the soldier takes and gulps down gratefully. 

They ride in silence for a few moments. The man fiddles with the radio, adjust his mirrors. “You know, I’m glad I found you when I did. Why, out here on the road, anything could happen to you.”

When the soldier feels the man’s hand on his thigh, he freezes. The trucker grins, squeezes a bit. The soldier fumbles with the door handle. “You just got here, sweetheart.” They man’s groin is obscenely swollen and bulging.

“Fuck off,” the soldier growls. The man grabs his flesh arm, growls “you’re not going anywhere.” 

The soldier’s metal hand is around the man’s throat. The man chokes, and looks at him with fear, pure fear. The soldier feels himself smiling as he snaps the man’s neck.

He finds matches in the man’s front pocket. He walks away as the truck burns. 

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

He steals food and clothes at a gas station convenience store. He sees himself in the mirror of the bathroom for the first time in weeks. His cheeks are beginning to hollow out, his hair is longer, and he’s beginning to grow a shaggy beard. He looks nothing like the man in the museum.

He smashes the mirror with his metal fist before walking out. 

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

He begins to have nightmares. 

If he’s on the road he sleeps beneath bushes or trees. If he’s in a city he sleeps in alleyways. 

He dreams that the Captain is falling again. Suddenly the water of the Potomac changes to and icy mountain, and he is the one who is falling. He hears the Captain scream after him, and Zola’s face is below him, laughing.

He wakes with his eyes streaming tears and the taste of blood in his mouth. 

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

He reaches a city. It’s not New York, but he figures it’s a good place to gather his strength. He steals food and water, new clothes, sneaks into someone’s house to shower. He washes the dirt and grime off his body. 

As he exits the house and begins to walk down the street he hears a scream coming from an alley. 

“Get away from me!” 

A voice growls back “Easy there, baby. Just take off the clothes and no one gets hurt.”

The soldier rushes to the alley. A brute of a man is cornering a pretty brunette woman. The soldier gets a flash of a scrawny boy in an alley, nose bloodied.

He rushes into the alley.

“Hey, what are you . . .!”

Within seconds the man’s neck is snapped and he falls lifeless to the floor. The woman stops screaming, staring at the soldier.

She begins to scream again. “HELP!”

The soldier runs.

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

He doesn’t want to kill, but he can’t stop himself. He kills the shopkeeper so he can retrieve food, the man who he finds beating his wife outside the restaurant. Whatever HYDRA agents he comes across as he raids old bases. He even kills a dog that barks while he’s trying to break into a house. 

He isn’t sure if he can be Bucky Barnes again. 

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

He sits on a bench in another unfamiliar city. He isn’t sure how far away New York is anymore. He tries to sleep but it won’t come to him. Besides, he’s afraid of the horrible things he might see if he closes his eyes.

He hasn’t eaten in two days. His stomach growls like an angry beast and he feels lightheaded and weak. 

A woman and her young son walk by. The son holds a grease-stained bag from a Happy Meal. He glances at the soldier and smirks. The bag slips from his hand and lies on the ground as the little boy walks on. 

The soldier’s belly rumbles pathetically.

He stares at the bag for a long time, whatever pride he has left clashing with his hunger. Eventually hunger begins to win, tearing at him in a way that tells him if he didn’t eat soon there would be serious consequences. 

He retrieves the bag and eats what’s in it. Disgust fills him suddenly as he realizes just how far he’s come. He’s not Bucky Barnes anymore. Bucky Barnes would never have allowed himself to fall so low. What’s left of Bucky has been stripped away by hardship, by the weapon.

There’s nothing left for him.

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

Later that night he takes out his last remaining knife and penetrates the skin of his flesh arm. He draws patterns in the blood. He punishes himself, punishes the weapon. His arm continues to bleed.

The pain feels good.

‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’

He makes it to New York. 

Each street of Brooklyn brings new memories, him climbing a tree with the scrawny boy. Saving him from bullies in alley. Sharing food, earning money.

 

The soldier no longer cares. He sleeps in alleys, because he knows they are important. He doesn’t steal anymore, he eats out of trashcans, and sometimes not even that, and most of the time his hunger goes unsatisfied. He allows himself to grow haggard and dirty. 

He waits for death, which might be too merciful for him.

Eventually his strength runs out, and he just lies in the alley, his head up against the wall. He closes his eyes.

“Bucky?”

Above him is the Captain, eyes wide in shock and alarm. He wears a blue t-shirt and jacket. 

The soldier stares up at him, and forces the word past his parched lips. “Steve?” 

The Captain kneels beside him, his eyes a mixture of anger and bewilderment and sadness. “I-I looked for you, Buck. For weeks.” 

And suddenly the soldier is crying. He reaches for Steve and buries his face in the man’s jacket, sobbing. “I’m not him!” He manages to choke out.

“Oh, Buck, Buck.” And suddenly the Captain lifts him up, carries him out of the alley. The soldier is still sobbing, clinging to his coat. He carries him into a small building, lays the soldier on the couch. 

After the tears finally stop the Captain brings him an apple and a glass of water. It’s been so long since the soldier has eaten properly that even the apple seems to settle painfully in his stomach. The water soothes his throat.

The captain sits across from him, fingers twisting nervously around each other. “Do you remember anything?” 

The soldier looks at him. “I get . . .flashes. But I can’t be him . . .I’ve done two many horrible things.”

The captain gets up, wraps his arms around the soldier. The soldier lets him. “Let me help you, Buck. I can help you remember. I have food and clothes and a place to sleep. You won’t have to live out there anymore.”

And suddenly a great wall collapses inside the soldier. He realizes that, for the first time in seventy years, someone is looking out for him. Someone cares if he lives or dies, cares if he needs help.

The tears come again, but the soldier forces them back. He feels the word slip past his lips. “Yes.” 

The captain smiles, hugs him tighter. “Thank you, Buck.” The soldier lets him hold him, and his heart is full.

It’s a start.


End file.
